


remind me not to let go of this home

by nonbinaryvision, solipsismlemonade



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Beast - Freeform, Earth-616, Fluff, Gay, Hank McCoy - Freeform, M/M, Marvel - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Simon Williams Deserves Nice Things, Snuggling, X-men - Freeform, a good nap is had by all, body heat sharing??, gay fluff, gays being stupid, give simon more sleep 2k20, he has the body heat of a corpse, i realize simon doesn't actually NEED sleep but he does need dreams ??, i still do not know how to do tags, im p sure simon was with them for a bit, in case you were wondering no, in this essay i will -, no beta we die like men, proofread in comic sans, simon williams - Freeform, simon williams doesn't have blood, they've been married for ten years they just don't know it yet, this ship has a canon basis!!!!!, west coast avengers - Freeform, wonder man - Freeform, you can pry my rarepair ships out of my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23378986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonbinaryvision/pseuds/nonbinaryvision, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solipsismlemonade/pseuds/solipsismlemonade
Summary: Just two bros taking a nap, nothing odd about that. Hell, they slept together all the time.…not that kind of sleeping together.They lived together! They were flatmates, or whatever you were supposed to call it. Simon got cold and sometimes Hank got uncomfortably warm and this was a middle ground they had both silently agreed on.Besides, everyone knew it wasn’t gay if you still had socks on.
Relationships: Hank McCoy / Simon Williams
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	remind me not to let go of this home

Hank pottered around the kitchen, shuffling cutlery and plates around with no real intent to organize but instead an itch to do so, or at least do something productive until Simon stopped pretending to sleep and actually started sleeping. When it got to the fifteen minute mark and Simon’s pulse and breathing showed no signs of slowing, Hank gave the man a suspicious peek over one blue-furred shoulder, tail tapping against the floor in irritation. Seriously, Hank had _counted_ the days since Simon had last slept. It was on a little white board Hank had bought _for this express purpose_. He had been looking forward to erasing the number (15) on it. Hank could hear Simon’s heartbeat, even from across the room, and he _knew_ what it sounded like when Simon was actually sleeping, in a totally not-creepy way.

Well, Hank would just have to take matters into his own hands.

Abandoning the counter and knife block, Hank padded into the living room and grabbed a decorative throw blanket off the back of the couch, more for the look of the thing than anything else. Hank never needed blankets and technically Simon didn’t either, but there was something about the weight of a nice blanket that really did things for Hank.

“Scoot over, Wondy,” Hank muttered under his breath, levering Simon’s mostly-limp body over to make room for himself, squishing Simon into the couch cushions in the process.

Just two bros taking a nap, nothing odd about that. Hell, they slept together all the time.

…not that kind of sleeping together.

They lived together! They were flatmates, or whatever you were supposed to call it. Simon got cold and sometimes Hank got uncomfortably warm and this was a middle ground they had both silently agreed on.

Besides, everyone knew it wasn’t gay if you still had socks on, and –

Shit, neither of them were wearing socks. Hank never wore socks in the house and right now Simon was wearing pajama pants and not much else and –

Hank stopped overthinking the whole thing and laid down before Simon could pretend to ‘wake up’, carefully draping the throw blanket over the both of them. Simon was very still and very cold, so Hank wrapped a furry blue arm around his chest and leaned his face against the space between Simon’s shoulder blades, because this was a reliably successful tactic for getting Simon fall asleep.

“You know I can hear your heartbeat from across the room, right?”

“I like listening to you do things.”

“…oh.” Hank had no reasonable reply for this, so he didn’t offer one, brain still scrambling to compute this new information. There was something about the thought of Simon dozing and listening to Hank do kitchen things that made his heart give a funny little stutter.

“We should get you a white board. When was the last time _you_ slept?”

“This isn’t about me, this is about you! I told you to take a nap.”

“I was working on it! You know it takes me a while to fall asleep.”

“It’s been almost fifteen minutes.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

Hank huffed out a breath against Simon’s spine, frustrated by this latest fallacy in his argument. “I don’t need sleep.” _As_ much sleep.

“Neither do I, you know that –”

“You still need to dream.” This was a well-worn argument Hank had tracked in his mind a dozen times. “Even if it’s just once or twice a week. To keep you sane. We’ve been over this, Wondy.”

“What about you, what about _your_ dreams?”

“I took a nap a few days ago,” Hank hedged. There was an 87% chance that this statement was correct, depending on one’s definition of ‘nap’.

“And you can take a nap today, too,” Simon said smugly, shifting back against Hank until they were more or less spooning, which was a comfortable thought. Hank was encouraged by the slow warming up of Simon from ‘corpse’ to ‘room temperature’ and the slowing and evening of his breathing.

“I’ll sleep if you sleep,” Hank mumbled into Simon’s shoulder, because this seemed like a safe deal.

“Deal.”

“Deal.” Hank held still, relaxing by increments into both Simon’s back and the couch, both of which were very comfortable.

The slow, steady rush of Simon’s heartbeat lulled him into a doze, both heard and felt; the rise and fall of Simon’s chest comforted Hank in ways he didn’t even know existed, ways he couldn’t even put words to. Six PhDs and he was defeated by the nameless sensation of Simon Williams’ skin and the rhythm of his breathing, the delicate-seeming cage of his ribs and ladder of his vertebrae. Humans, even mutant humans, seemed so fragile to Hank. He’d seen teammates and friends die – and come back – countless times, but there was a reassuring solidity to Simon, one that made Hank feel less of a… well, less of a beast.

The truth – the heart of the matter – was that Simon didn’t mind Hank’s fur and tail and claws, nor even his slitted yellow eyes, just as Hank didn’t mind that Simon’s eyes glowed red and he didn’t have blood. 

The heart of the matter was that Hank was incontrovertibly in love with Simon Williams, and they were living together, and he could never – in any way – voice this to Simon.

This was good enough, though. Hank listened for the slowed cadence of Simon’s heartbeat, counting off as he timed himself. When Simon hit 34 bpm, Hank allowed himself to relax a little further, mind drifting a little more.

He didn’t even remember falling asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> this breeze - flora cash
> 
> give my boys love please  
> big big shoutout to @nonbinaryvision for their simply stunning portrayal of Our Lad Simon and the many plotting sessions we've had, and also for helping me onto the simon/hank wagon in the first place


End file.
